Stolen Kisses and Lost I Love Yous
by wrecking
Summary: Edward and Rosalie always fought each other, both for love and hate. Rosalie never wanted more than plaything, Edward always wanted to call her his. Edward/Rosalie


The second she's inside the house, Edward has to stop breathing

The second she's inside the house, Edward has to stop breathing. Her blood is sweet like perfume and it stings his nose. He argues with Carlisle for what seems like hours before he finally looks at her. Her skin is like porcelain, already pale and translucent from the blood loss. He forces himself to look away and back to Carlisle.

"Whatever you need to do."

He goes upstairs and pretends he can't hear her screams. He immerses himself in Dickens, Baudelaire, Plato and when she's asking _Why_ near the end, he can't even look at her.

--

Rosalie is exactly the person Edward knew she was. He'd seen her before, seen her expensive dresses and the influential people she kept company with. He doesn't want to love her; he sees no reason why he should. She's vain, opinionated, high-strung, and so many other discoloring adjectives.

But when she's sitting at the window, holding her throat and pretending it's a dream, he can't help but put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs him off most of the time, but the few times she puts her hand over his, makes it worth the effort.

--

Everything is stolen, all the kisses and the wayward stares. Rosalie infuriates him, he's completely livid at her most of the time and he thinks that's why she excites him.

It feels like she purposely angers him so they'll have a reason to touch and scream at each other. And he's sure that his name on her lips is like a brand new language.

--

It happened like the changing of seasons and he's not sure why she pretends to sleep in his room. He has a book in his lap and she's stretched out across his couch like a kitten. Her feet play with the leg of his pants and he's ignoring her all the same.

Rosalie is always annoyed at his reading habits. "Why are books so _important_? You act like they are air."

"We don't need air," he reminds her.

She sighs like water crashing and sits up from the couch. "Why don't you read _me_ instead?" Her smirk is playful, almost dangerous.

Edward closes his book, keeping a finger inside to mark his place. He looks up at her and she's sitting like a small child, her legs folded under her, hands in her lap.

He kisses her and it's the first time he's felt like he really could love someone.

--

He's reading, she's pretending to be interested in a magazine. Her legs keep finding their way into Edward's lap and he's tired of pushing them off only for them to return.

"Do you think she's pretty?" she asks, her hands holding up the magazine she's been slapping the pages of.

Edward looks up, grinning. He knows just how to hurt her. "Yeah, wow. She's gorgeous."

Rosalie wrinkles her nose and sinks into the couch more. She looks up at him, to the magazine, then to him and her voice is so small. "Prettier than me?"

He laughs at her vanity and returns to his book shaking his head. She stomps out of the room like a teenager and he can't stop smiling.

--

Emmett crashes into their lives like a steam engine and Rosalie's mouth is pouring out _sorry_s and promises that nothing is different. But it is, _everything_ is.

Edward looks at Emmett like a Judas, someone that betrayed everything he ever knew. He never gives Emmett the fair chance he deserves for a decision that was out of his control.

Edward shuts himself in his room for the three days it takes Emmett to turn and when Rosalie knocks, asking him to help Emmett on his first hunt, he slaps her across the face.

She holds her cheek, mouth agape and he calls her a whore. It's his only defense mechanism. If she hates him, he can hate her too.

But Rosalie never hates him, even when he's at his worst she loves him like she always has. But it's never enough, and Edward finds himself pining for something he'll never have.

--

Edward forces himself to ignore her thoughts, even when she is screaming his name, wanting him to look at her. He never looks up, never meets her eyes. She's the one that walked away; she's the one that ruined whatever it was that they had.

He avoids her and dodges her until she is sitting on his couch, in his room, and he's speechless. It's the first time he's looked at her in months.

Her hair pinned and curled, her legs crossed and her voice like daggers to his chest. "How long are you going to pretend I don't exist?"

He slams his door shut and stands in front of her like a predator. "It's easier when I don't have to hear or see your _disgusting_ displays of affections with _him_."

She stands, her eyes narrowed with disgust. "Edward, you are pretending like we were lovers." She scoffs and pushes him back from her. "We kissed a few times, fucked _once_ and you think we are something epic." She laughs and crosses the room, hand on the door. "You amuse me, Edward. How easily you can latch onto something that isn't _anything_ at all."

Rosalie grins and closes his door. His hands ball into fists and he wants to beat every wall until he's falling apart. He decides to hunt instead, seeing her face on every animal he takes down. Their blood tasting like her, their cries mimicking her own from that first night.

--

Emmett is away hunting and Edward and Rosalie have the house to themselves. He tries to avoid her, but she insists on putting herself wherever he is.

She catches him in the hallway and slams him into the wall. "Stop. Avoiding. Me." Every word like a new sentence.

He shoves her off and she hits the wall across from him. This makes her smile and she approaches him again. "Oh, are we upset?"

He pushes her back again, but she presses herself against him even harder. "Poor Edward, always wanting what he can't have. You're tragic, pathetically tragic."

He spins her around, pinning her arms above her head. She's laughing when he kisses her. Her leg crawls up his body like a snake and she's kissing him back.

He picks her up by the hips and they're in Rosalie's sham of bed. He can't stop kissing her, his hands forcing their way to her skin.

She pulls away, looking at him with worry, "He can't ever know," she says and Edward nods.

Her lips crash into his again and he can't ignore her thoughts. She's thinking of Emmett and he wishes it was enough to stop this mistake from happening.

--

Emmett is upset and he's come to Edward. All Edward can think about is the cries from Rosalie's mouth, her eyes squinting closed, her hands on his back. If Emmett knew any better, he'd of picked _anyone_ but Edward to confide in.

"She's... _different_. She won't look at me." Emmett's eyes are sad and it's the first time Edward feels sorry for him.

He puts a hand on his shoulder. "She's like that sometimes. I don't know. She had a really hard time before you came along." Emmett smiles at this just as Edward knew he would. "Give her a few days, she'll shake out of it."

Emmett smacks Edward on the back and is throwing _thank you_s over his shoulder as he goes up the stairs. Edward wants to drown in his guilt and is sure Rosalie would join him in an instant.

--

"I can't do this! You are acting like a selfish fucking martyr! I'm hurting too, you fucking narcissist!" Rosalie's words echoing off the walls of the living room; the rest of the family staying away and not even trying to understand.

Edward's voice boomed over hers, fighting for volume. "You did this! You did all of this! It's not like I was the one who went off and got a new plaything. You did, Rose. It was all _you_!"

Rosalie walked over to him, shoving him hard so that he nearly fell to the ground. "You are insufferable, Edward. Completely fucking insufferable."

She stormed off and Edward was fuming. He picked up the desk beside him and threw it at the stairs she was climbing. She looked down at him like a spectator and laughed at his melodramatic rage.

--

In the living room and Rosalie is sitting as far from Edward as she can manage. Her fingers in Emmett's hair and Edward absorbed in a book pretending not to watch them with jealousy.

This is how they were now. Edward silently wishing he could kiss her pouting lips and Rosalie doing what she could to flaunt her life with Emmett in his face.

They had resigned to a sort of neutral ground. But sometimes when they were alone he swore he heard her whispering _I love yous _to him under her breath.


End file.
